Vulnerable
by Silent Sage
Summary: Will's powers never emerge. He still manages to draw attention, although it's never the good kind unless you count one Warren Peace. AU?
1. i see you

**Vulnerable**

**Disclaimer**: Disney owns it. Not mine. No profit. All fun though.

* * *

><p>Will knew he was different.<p>

By all accounts, it was normal that he's _normal_.

Except, in Sky High where everyone has a superpower, or a power at the very least, he could still be considered a freak.

High school didn't necessarily come easy; even with powers, so Will considered himself lucky that despite his _lack of_ powers, he still had friends.

His parents kept him sheltered to the superhero community at large, mostly due to his mother's wishes that he should enjoy being a normal teenager before attending Sky High.

He doubted she ever considered that he would be normal and powerless and still attend Sky High.

He walked through the halls of Sky High, awe on his face while watching a girl at her locker, her hair – long, shiny, brown and _alive_ – carefully tuck her books into her book bag while she checked her makeup.

Speaking of which…

"You dropped your book!"

Will called to the retreating figure clad in black and leather. He jogged toward the suddenly still person, his shoulder's stiff and his fingers clenched. Will assumed it was due to the embarrassment of dropping his book.

Catching up to the other's side, Will held up the well-worn book, and…his smile falters, if only for a moment.

There were no thanks, just a narrowed gaze between ebony hair streaked with red, as the other teen slowly pulls the book from Will's grasp.

Their fingers barely graze one another.

Will felt his heart skip a beat.

Because those dark colored eyes _knew_ him.

"Will! Come one, dude! We're gonna be late!"

Zach's boisterous voice managed to bypass the constant hum of students walking and talking in the halls. Although, _now_ that Will had a chance to look around, he couldn't help but tell that the air was different. The hallway was a little quieter, there was a careful distance between the rest of the students and himself…and especially the taller teenager.

His dad always told him he was paranoid. He blamed having superhero parents. Their paranoia was infectious.

Brushing off any second thoughts, Will looks up and grins despite the fact that it's not returned.

"I…I gotta go," Will took a step back. "Later."

The retreating brunette didn't see the students who were not-so-secretly watching the interaction between Baron Battle's son and The Commander and Jetstream's son. The moment Will was safely huddled between his friends – the Glow Worm enthusiastically talking about radioactive tigers and whatnot – the bystanders started to whisper amongst themselves.

"The Commander and Jet-"

"That was Baron's-"

"I can't believe-"

"No powers…"

Warren carefully tucked the book underneath his arm.

He noticed Speed and Lash disappear into the adjacent hallway, snickering and talking amongst themselves as their scheming eyes followed Will's backside as he walks to his next class.

Will was not the only object of attention at Sky High.

He was just the only one who's defenseless to it.

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><p><strong>SS<strong>: I wanted to write a slashy spinoff of what could have happened if Will remained powerless at Sky High. The possibilities. -cackles- Review please!


	2. Expectations

**Vulnerable**

Chapter One: **Expectations**

...

His mother hugged him.

She whispered, "It's okay, baby. Everything will be okay."

Will's buried his face into her neck. He couldn't stop his mouth from spilling a litany of apologies.

The son of the two greatest superheroes of the decade didn't have superpowers and his mother confirmed it by walking into the kitchen during a particularly epic struggle against a jar of pickles.

Will's a momma's boy for a reason and before he could form an excuse in his mind, her arms were wrapped around him, jar of pickles forgotten on the countertop. She murmured the reassurances that Will always thought could be, but were always overridden with the thought that they would deem him as unacceptable, defective, not _their_ son. He remembers looking at the TV, his dad's action figure grasped in his tiny hand, cheering his parents on.

And then-

A robot grabbed his mother by the ankle and flung her into a nearby building.

She came back that evening with a few bandages on her face.

'_They're just boo-boo's honey_,' she whispered sweetly to him in his bed as he cried in her lap.

At seven, he became aware that his mom and dad were not his exclusively, but the rest of the world's as well.

And that he had big shoes to fill.

"You always have real estate school," she said. Her forehead was pressed gently against his, her clear, hazel eyes staring at him like he's the only person in the world, like she's his _mother_ and not the mother of a superpower-less child. Will knew she was being truthful as she spoke. "I expect you to take over my housing legacy."

Will laughed through the tears.

He hugged her tighter.

He was grateful that he didn't have to watch his strength.

That night, while they're eating dinner, they're both a little quieter.

She didn't tell him to tell his father.

However, that night, when his father asked, "How's was everybody's day?" her mouth sloping downward slightly.

He made her promise.

He would tell.

He would.

Just.

Not during dinner.

While his mom is washing the dishes, he gathered what little courage that didn't run away during dessert while they're watching the evening news. The news has just flickered onto the weather report when he inhaled and spoke.

The remote was crushed in his father's hand into a fine powder. Luckily, there was a collection of remotes in the cabinet to the right of the television.

Unluckily, his father didn't say anything.

His father was disappointed.

It was in his carefully controlled breathing, the straighter lines of his back as he slowly stood up from the coach, and even in the way quietly left the living room and heads toward that unknown part of the house that Will has never been given the privy too.

He never turned his head to look at Will.

Will clenched his eyes, his arms wrapped around himself but that did nothing to protect him from seeing his father's smile wiped from his face and his expression replaced with that carefully guarded look that's reserved for his Commander persona.

His mother is immediately by his side. She pressed a kiss against his forehead before she followed after her husband, her heels clicking down the hallway like an early warning signal of an oncoming visitation from a protective mother bear on a mission.

The walls were closing in, the various pictures of their little family staring down accusatorily down at him. Will gulped, his eyes straying to the family portrait directly in front of him, and even the picture of his father smiling causes Will the unnerving desire to crawl into his bed and never emerge.

He needed air.

Scrambling into his room, Will opened the window and leaned forward toward the darkened sky and breathed. The cold gulps of air streaming throughout his body a needed shock to his system. He turned around, leaning the lower half of his body against the window railing before leaning on the balls of his feet to grab the window's ledge and haul himself up onto the roof.

Lying against the slightly warmed tiles of his roof, Will looked forward into the vast night sky, the stars twinkly brightly at him with an answer that he would probably never interpret.

There are plenty of superheroes that were _super_heroes and didn't have powers.

Batman.

But-

He's just Will.

To his left, he could hear the faint tremble of leaves and his senses were overloaded with the sudden smell of apples. He looked up and grinned when a familiar mop of red head appeared in his line of vision. In her hand is an apple. "Real estate school," Will stated as he accepted the apple with a half-hearted grin.

"That's a promising future prospect," Layla replied as she settled herself next to him. Her shoulder pressed against his once he sat up. She nudged his shoulder with hers, "Does that mean Sky High is…?"

"I'm still going," Will stated with certainty, looking thoughtfully at his apple. "They're making an exception because I'm The Commander's and Jetstream's son."

"Other than the obvious favoritism," Layla stated wryly, it didn't stop the grin from spreading across her face, "I'm glad we're still going to be classmates."

"You should be in the hero class." Will bit into his apple, chewing thoughtfully. "This better not be a pity decision because of poor, powerless Stronghold."

She rolled her eyes toward the darkened sky, as if asking for help from a higher being. "You know I'm against society placing labels upon the impressionable youth." She bumped her back against his shoulder, her fingers curling loosely around his forearm. "However, I'll make an exception for you."

Will hummed in agreement, his fingers gently picking at the tiles of the roof.

"So…"

"I told them."

"You told them or…"

"More like…" Will felt his face enflame as he murmured, "Mom saw me losing against a jar of pickles."

"There could be worst ways to figure out you don't have superpowers." Layla attempted to rationalize with a forced grin. Behind her, he can see the apple tree blooming for more apples.

"I could accidentally be crushed underneath a car if they had dragged me with them to a mission."

"You would've told them before though."

He gives her a look.

"Well, there's that," Layla shrugged. "If it helps any, your funeral would have had the most beautiful flowers from me," right before she dropped a bushel of apples in his lap.

She beamed at him.

"Your pep talks need work."

"You're not giving me a lot to work with Will!"

…

Even super-powered high schoolers were allowed field trips. They don't go to Mars or the space station hiding discreetly behind the moon (that's for the seniors), but the freshman class did get to go to the zoo.

_Even_ hero assistance.

Despite the moaning and groaning, and the "We're not babies!" from a few individuals, Will was more than happy to go.

He always had a fondness for the lions.

Until now.

Somehow, Animal Tamer coincidently decided to free all the animals from the zoo the same time Sky High freshman were running around the zoo.

"Will!" Layla gritted her teeth, attempting to dodge flying songbirds while keeping the predator birds tangled in their vegetative nets. "Where are you?"

"I'm fine!"

"Doesn't look like it to me, dude!" Zach called in his direction as he and Ethan lead several dozen different types of insects back toward the insect house with Zach's glow and Ethan's liquid entrapment of the more pesky waterborne insects.

Magenta squeaked in agreement before turning back to her own problem: Deferring a major coup from the rodent population.

It was a little difficult, especially with the Animal Tamers machine on full blast in the background.

The heroes in the other classes, makeshift disguises over their faces, were attempting to keep the animals away from the citizens. It – well, Boomer hadn't yet covered scenarios where various predatory animals were mixed into the superhero-ing equation. So, while the hero-class was managing fairly on their own, it only lasted until the baboons were thrown into the mix.

Unfortunately for Will, he was at the large feline exhibit when Animal Tamer freed the animals.

Will whimpered, pressing his body further against the concrete wall with nowhere else to go, his heart beating a mile a minute like it wanted to erupt from his chest. The wall behind him was smooth and his sneakers left no traction for him to climb up. It seemed like a good idea throwing a rock at a large, 400-pound wild lion to keep it away from an innocent woman and her toddler. The first part of the plan worked well when the woman grabbed her little boy and sprinted to a safe distance with the other civilians. Will exhaled slowly and wiped his forehead.

And then the plan took a turn for the worse when the lion turned his focus toward Will, it's eyes enflamed at the seemingly minor annoyance.

The lion crouched, its tailing flailing slowly behind it.

Will straightened his body, staring it down while hoping for…for _something_.

"WILL!" Layla shrieked from a distance. Lucky her.

The lion roared, his white teeth glistening in the light as it charged forward.

A wall of red, hot fire surged merely feet away from Will.

The lion yelped, its whiskers smoldering, scrambling backward-

-Only to run into The Commander.

The hero clad in red, white, and blue dropped an unconscious Animal Tamer onto the ground. His flute was crushed into tiny pieces by his unconscious form.

The Commander narrowed his eyes at the lion, causing it to flatten its ears. Even the wild animal knows not to mess with him. The Commander's lack of superhero dialogue and his characteristic grin were absent as he grabbed the large feline by the scruff of it's neck. As if The Commander was handling a stuffed animal, he easily threw it back within the confines of its area. The lion yelped once it landed within its area, it bared its fangs, but shrank when The Commander pointedly punched a wall, making a nice indent and securing the iron grate that the lion tore through to initially free itself, before he walked away.

Will was still rooted on his spot. He was pale with a sheen of cold sweat dripping from his body, but overall, he though he's okay. Suddenly, his friends swarmed him and gathered him into a group hug. Layla was checking him over for cuts and scrapes, clicking her tongue like a mother hen when her fingers grazed against a particularly harsh bruise. They stop –Layla's fingers still pressed against a pretty harsh bruise, Will winces (Layla was probably doing that on purpose)- as they stared in awe as The Commander stood before them. There was an impenetrable expression on his face.

"Are you okay, son?"

He was using his Commander tone, but it did not stop the small smile forming on Will's face. His father was looking at him, really just-_just_ looking at him.

"Thanks Commander."

The Commander nodded before turning away, his cape billowing behind him as he followed the scream of several members of the hero-class while struggling in the penguin exhibit.

…

"I'm okay, mom," Will murmured into his mother's collarbone as she crushed him against her body. "Really, I got a lollipop and everything from the nurse. I'm pretty sure I'm okay."

Josie pulled away for a moment, staring at him with wide, worried eyes before grabbing his face and squishing his cheeks in her hands as she shook his head from side to side, "Are you sure? You still looked flushed? Oh my gosh, what if you got a weird disease? Like sleeping sickness!"

"Honey," Steve placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. It didn't stop his eyes from flickering up and down Will's slightly scratched up form, "Our son says he's okay, I'm sure we can believe him."

"Let me grab you some cookies and hot chocolate then," Josie shot him a watery smile before rushing to the kitchen to find a way to coddle him with baked goods.

"Thanks dad." Will cautiously looked up at his dad, unsure if yesterday's confession is still on the tip of his mind.

Will was more than a little surprised when his dad took a step forward and enveloped him in a hug. It was a tight hug, just on the edge of being crushing, but Will returned it all the same. It felt like hugging a stone column that was brimming with all the love and attention that he held back earlier that day.

"I'm glad you're safe," his dad whispered into his ear, unrelenting in his embrace. He pulled away, his mouth set in a line. "I-I know yesterday I didn't take your…admittance well, but-" He released Will, his palms open as he makes motioning movements, indicating the entirety of Will, "You're my one and only son." He coughed, rubbing the back of his neck, a pink tint on the tip of his cheeks, "I love you, whether or not you have powers."

Will grinned, shuffling his feet a little back and forth at the awkwardness of the situation but appreciating this talk nonetheless. He stepped forward, once again hugging his father. He buried his face into his dad's shoulder, a relieved grin on his face. His dad chuckled, raising a hand to gently ruffle his hair.

"Cute!"

A flash of light.

Steve and Will Stronghold looked up to see Josie Stronghold holding a camera, grinning brightly.

"I'm faxing this to Grandma Stronghold later!"

…

"Can I have my fortune cookie now?" Will asked politely, a grin on his face. It was not returned. It didn't dampen his spirits though. The crispy pork on egg noodles and stir-fried vegetables in the Paper Lantern were the best.

Warren rolled his eyes, disappearing behind the counter before reappearing with a cookie in his hand. "Here."

"Thanks," Will beamed as he carefully broke it open. You have to break it cleanly in two pieces or the wish is defaulted. He stood by his fortune cookie theories.

Warren raised an eyebrow.

"Dessert should always be eaten first," Will announced in defense as he popped a half of it in his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully as he carefully pulled the slim piece of paper from the other half of the cookie. He read, "**A pleasant surprise is waiting for you.**"

Warren scoffed, making a move to go back to the kitchen.

"Thank you."

"The cookie is part of the meal."

Will carefully stirred the noodles together so that the egg noodles could properly sop up the secret brown sauce. "For saving me yesterday."

"I couldn't exactly allow a lion maul you," Warren responded wryly, his back still to Will. "That's probably a negative one thousand on my Save The Citizen score."

"Still, let me say thanks," Will insisted.

"Whatever Stronghold." Warren huffed slightly in resignation before turning around to fully face Will, his tattooed arms folded firmly in front of his chest.

Will blushes. He has inadvertently made himself the sole focus of one Warren Peace. He looked up, his hazel eyes earnestly meeting Warren's. "Thank you for saving me."

Warren turned away and took a step away back toward the kitchen. "I was just there at the right time and right place."

Will smiled even wider, his voice teasing, "My hero."

Warren froze, his shoulders stiff as he resumed his trek at a more hurried pace back to the kitchen. While turning the corner into the kitchen, Will saw a slight smile on his face.

Will popped the other half of the cookie in his mouth and tucked the fortune carefully in his pocket.

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><p><strong>SS<strong>: We're getting somewhere. Totally. Kind of. Anyway, review please!


	3. pudding cups

**Vulnerable**

Chapter Two: **pudding cups**

...

Warren had amazing aim.

Today was no different.

Every fireball he threw at Will barely even grazed him. The worst damage that occurred on Will's body was the slight singe on the tips of his hair.

Will absently noted, as he leapt over a forgotten lunch tray, that he needed a haircut anyway.

Warren knew the younger teen had no powers to speak of. He couldn't even glow or converse with frogs. It was the talk of the school, especially in the Advanced Hero classes that the legendary Commander and Jetstream's offspring was without powers. Warren _accidentally_ sent a fireball to his far left in the direction of a few stragglers who have the gall to inch closer to view the fight. They scurried farther toward the back of the cafeteria like roaches to the light.

The fire balls directed toward Will only mean to scare him and keep the crowd of curious teenagers at bay while corralling the young brunette to a less crowded area.

His little sidekick friends made jerky movements to assist him, especially the hippie, but they were quickly deterred when a flaming chair landed in front of them.

Will inadvertently followed Warren's plans to a T and swiftly ducked into the hallways, away from the crowds who were a little too eager to see the outcome of the one-sided battle but too afraid of Warren to immediately follow after the two. The hallway did not have enough room for the large crowd of students to safely watch a fight that also involved flaming balls of fire.

The squeaks of Will's sneakers were an indicator of his location. Cutting him off in the science wing, Warren managed to corner Will in a hallway. Will's breathing was erratic, his cheeks flushed with a slight pink tint and his face damp with a sheen of sweat. Warren could see the mental dialogue in his head about what other options there could be as scans his surroundings.

There are none. Warren made sure of it.

Will's breathing eventually tapered off and he took a step back to brace himself against the lockers with a slight 'clang'.

It was surprisingly quiet in the hallway.

They could both hear the sound of Will's sidekick buddies running in an adjacent hall in search of Will and Warren.

Will made no sound. His eyes were fixated on Warren straight ahead, just like at the zoo when he faced that lion. There was fear tinged in his eyes, but no hate.

His eyes right now were a little apprehensive but mostly curious.

The fire still surging around his fists crackled and flittered.

It had been three days since Will was at the Paper Lantern, and a week since the incident at the zoo.

Warren's extinguished his arms. The smell of ash remained prevalent in the air.

Will blinked, a perplexed expression clear on his face as Warren quietly watched him. His mouth parted open to question Warren about his actions but he immediately snaped shut when Warren's arms landed on either side of his head against the lockers, the echo of impact resounding throughout the walls hypnotically.

Warren towered over him.

_Now_ there was fear in his eyes. Will waited with bated breath for the other's next action.

Warren leaned close, the fan of his long, ebony hair obscuring his face, creating shadows against his jaw-line and accentuating his high cheek makes. He was near enough that Will could clearly see Warren's mocha colored eyes. They were hooded and guarded, but underneath it all, Will could see the flickering of _kindness_ in their dark depths _- - _like the neighbor's large, intimidating German Shepherd that Will –to the surprise of his parents and other neighborhood children- befriended as a child.

Will wanted to raise his hands and sweep his fingers against Warren's face, ridding him of the melancholic shadows from the corners of his face.

"Next time any of these idiots mess with you," Warren finally spoke, the heat emitted from his body like a warm blanket during a cold winter's morning, "You tell me."

"Ok," Will replied automatically, the corners of his lips twitching upward in a shy, appreciative smile. "Thank you."

Warren continued to stare at him, his expression matching his eyes and softening ever so gradually before he took a step back away from Will.

He looked like – that person Will knew was there all along. The one that briefly smiled at him at the Paper Lantern.

Will wanted to move forward, to say _something_ but suddenly Warren's expression darkened, the façade of indifference masking his face once more. They simultaneously turned their heads to the side to see Lash and Speed appear at the corridor.

Glee turned into horror, the mischievous duo losing all color on their faces when they see Warren move away from an unharmed Will.

Warren smirked, clicking his right arm to burst into flame before promptly sending a fireball down the hall aimed directly toward the mischievous duo.

If not for Speed's super speed and Lash's elasticity, Warren would not have missed. Instead, their clothes are more than a little singed.

"Go to the nurse," Warren stated as he began to walk away in search of Lash and Speed like a panther stalking its prey. "Your ankle."

Warren disappeared quietly into a corridor and Will finally exhales.

Will makes a noise of surprise when he took the first step toward the nurse's office. Warren was right. He must have hurt it when he initially tripped over Lash earlier in the cafeteria. It was probably due to the adrenaline rush from earlier that kept him from noticing.

Carefully, while clinging to the lockers for support, Will limped toward the nurse's office only to be surrounded by his friends a few seconds later. They were frantic, their hands nudging him, making sure he is safe and uninjured. He glanced up at Layla and he _knew_ he's due for a lecture after she makes sure he's coherent enough to understand it.

As the group made their way toward the nurse's office, they all jolted when they heard oddly familiar screams echo from a nearby hallway.

Will did not contain the grin spreading across his face.

"You sure you're okay?" Ethan asked as notes the change of expression on Will's face.

"Yeah, I'm better now."

…

"We're not suddenly friends," Warren stated a day later after the incident.

"I know," Will replied from his seat across from him. Instead of moving away to another seat, he placed his pudding cup next to Warren's empty one.

What?

Warren opened his mouth to protest-

"Will! Which alloy did you pick for Hero's and Their Weaknesses project next month?" Layla rounded the table, placing her tray next to Will's. She shot a grin at Warren in recognition before she turned her focus back toward Will.

Her smile was not returned.

"If you picked kryptonite, I'll bash your head in," Magenta stated as she situates herself on Will's other side. "I had dibs first."

"What are you three doing?" Warren growled, his fingers curling inward toward his palms as mentally fights to keep his core body temperature within reasonable levels. He did not need to be sent to detention again for melting school property.

"Sitting, talking, enjoying the view," Magenta narrowed eyes, "Gotta a problem with that?"

"Yeah, I do," Warren answers at the same time as Zach slides in the seat beside him. Ethan popped up on his other side, an enthusiastic expression on his face as he surveyed Warren and the rest of the occupants at the table.

"Magenta! Is he bothering you?" Zach questions as he attempts to stare down Warren.

It worked as well as a hamster against a Doberman.

"I'm the one who's being bothered here," Warren glowered.

"Is this the cool guys' table?" Ethan brightly exclaimed. "No more stolen desserts!"

Warren ran a hand down his face, frustrated. He needed air. And fast. At the last minute, he grabbed his pudding cup and headed toward the cafeteria door.

It was eat pudding or set something on fire and get detention again.

Pudding seemed like the safer route to take.

He could hear the humming-like noise of the previously slack-jawed student body as he neared the exit. It grew louder and louder like a beehive and he didn't care in the least that he was probably perpetuating their assumption that he was a hot head, but then heard the familiar squeak of sneakers chase after him.

Stronghold.

Is it too much to ask for a peaceful lunch?

In the quiet hallway of Sky High, Warren suddenly stopped in his brisk pace. He heard the obnoxious squeal of Will's sneakers skidding across the linoleum floor in a sudden halt from behind him.

"What?" Warren asked in exasperation after he turned around to face the younger teen.

"Here," Will held up a spoon.

Warren blinked.

"For your pudding," Will stated simply with a cheeky grin.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" There was no heat in that statement. The corners of Warren's lips quirked upward as he stated, more than asked, the question while grasping the offered spoon.

"I get that a lot," Will beamed.

…

It started with pudding cups and somehow, to the astonishment to Warren and the respective student body at large, it ended with the group continuing to sit at Warren's table. The solitary son of the infamous Baron Battle was suddenly consistently surrounded by an enthusiastic myriad of sidekicks. The kicker to this horribly cliché scenario was that this group followed the lead of the powerless son of The Commander, the superhero that locked Warren's father away.

The question at the forefront of the Sky High student body at large –and even Warren's- minds is why hadn't burnt them to ashes yet.

Warren knew there's a betting pool somewhere regarding the date when he goes berserk and sets the table –with his unannounced guests still in their seats- on fire.

Those who sat close enough to Warren's table assumed it was due to the pudding cups that Will always gives to Warren.

Warren solemnly vowed that he would set the first person that seriously thought he was easily appeased with pudding cups on fire.

'_We aren't even in the same class_,' Warren mentally sighed as he sat his novel back down on the table with a thump.

Ethan was explaining the subtle intricacies of plutonium versus uranium –_no, Zach, just because they blow glow green doesn't mean they're the same_- and all Warren wanted to do was to slam his head repeatedly against the table top.

He was almost finished with his second pudding cup when Layla placed her chocolate pudding cup delicately on the corner of his tray.

She grinned with a knowing smile as he looked up from the new pudding cup and back at her. She and Will exchanged a look before they turned their attention back to Ethan and his not-so-interesting lecture.

Free food was free food.

He took a bite. Frowning, he took a second bite. There was something _off_. It was good but- huh, whatever, food was food.

It wasn't as delicious as the second pudding cup.

Will glanced at him curiously and Warren's initial reaction to Layla's offered pudding cup –Warren shrugged- but turns his head back to Ethan, his concerned expression not lessening.

Before lunch ended though, as the rest of the group are threw their trays away and straightened their paperwork into their backpacks, Will quietly appeared by his side and handed him another pudding cup.

Warren wondered how close he was to the onset of diabetes if he continued to eat all this pudding.

He still accepted the offered pudding cup.

Will bashfully rubbed the back of his nape, "I managed to get the cafeteria lady to give me a vanilla pudding cup. My mom sold her son a really nice condo last year so she was more happy to do so." He added, "I'll remember to get vanilla since you didn't like the chocolate one Layla gave you."

"Huh," Warren huffed while opening the foil lid three quarters of the way. He had ten minutes until class starts to finish his third pudding cup of the day. He spooned the gooey confection into his mouth while watching Will scurry along with his group to the basement where the Hero Support classes were located.

Yeah, this one tasted good.

He frowned into his spoonful of pudding. He didn't have a particular preference. He likes chocolate pudding just as much as vanilla. Pudding was pudding. Will would often give him a random pudding cup and he'd eat it because hey, creating and effectively controlling fire used up a lot of calories.

Will shot him another shy smile before he disappears into the stairwell, and Warren realized as he absently licked his spoon it didn't necessarily have to do with the _flavor_ of the pudding, but _who_ gave it to him.

Promptly finishing the pudding cup, he threw the empty container into the trash. Warren stuffed his hands into his pockets and headed toward class, bypassing the hushed whispers and curious looks.

Lunch was proving to be more interesting.

* * *

><p><strong>SS<strong>: Yeah, we're totally heading somewhere. Kind of. Eeeh. After completing Five People Will Dated and The One That Stayed I'm feeling a little lazy, but this was already done, all I needed was to edit it, so hey, might as well upload it for all of you. Review please! Reviews are to me like pudding cups are to Warren = AWESOME.


	4. when did it go

**Vulnerable**

**A/N**: I recently edited the previous chapters so hopefully the flow is better. There aren't any major differences and won't effect later chapters but I thought I'd give y'all a heads up.

Chapter Four: **when did it go  
><strong>

...

Warren was not fond of crowds. He could deal with people. He _could_, but when he was in the Big Box grocery store with kids – running around and knocking over boxes and screaming for cookies with their mothers –talking loudly while wearing horrifyingly glittery sweatpants with the word _Baby_ sewed across their posterior- it left a bitter taste in his mouth and his body temperature simultaneously soaring through the stratosphere and-and-

Let's say in a previous experience, just after entering middle school with his powers equally as temperamental as his raging hormones, coupled with the fallout from the superhero community and their (impressionable) children, an aisle full of mysteriously melted frozen foods was an indicator that Warren was better off with the smaller, sparsely crowded mom and pop grocery stores stubbornly tucked away in the various nooks and crannies of Maxville city.

Friday that afternoon, third day of middle school and discreetly sporting a bruised fist, was when Warren happened upon _Teddy's_.

He stumbled past the emerald green doors with a dire need for something that wasn't take-out (his mom was too worn out from her part-time mediating and full-time negotiating to cook) and he paused.

Theresa looked at him, pausing her rearrangement of bell peppers into resembling the vegetable version of a Claude Monet work, and gave him a once over. Of course she saw the scrawny, quiet kid with the quickly swelling knuckles but two minutes later, instead of shooing him away which he half expected, she was sitting next to him pressing an ice pack onto the back of his hand while persuading him to be her newest guinea pig and try her chipotle-garlic kettle chips.

He took one bite of the homemade chip and never looked back.

Warren also learned a fundamental truth the following week due to a major shortage of kettle chips from the pantry. (His mom was a human lie detector but a bad liar when Warren was pinning her down with an accusatory gaze that was too reminiscent of her own.)

Never go to Teddy's on Tuesdays.

Wednesdays—_Wednesdays_ were the best.

Wednesdays were when the new shipment of produce comes in from Teddy's personal suppliers.

He doesn't mind waiting for Wednesdays to round the corner, not when everything on that day was literally restocked, leaving almost too much to choose from.

Convenience led to the boom of '_everything you need and then some'_ grocery stores, but Warren was never one for looking for socks at the same place he bought his cabbage.

Besides, there was a difference in quality.

First of all: the produce was organic.

Warren despised genetically engineered or biochemically enhanced fruits and vegetables the first time he bit into a tomato his mother bought from the supermarket due to a compressed schedule forcing her to shop at Big Box. His mother's was turned for a moment, and he grabbed a tomato, and like any seven year old kid unaware about where and how exactly his food came into creation, swiped it under the faucet for a second to 'clean' it before sinking his teeth into the bright, delicate, red flesh of the vegetable (fruit, his mother corrected him absently). The acrid taste of something that could possibly be in the list of ingredients in rat poisoning left little to be desired.

Second: Baked goods. Seriously, whatever Teddy did in the kitchen, Warren was pretty sure he could lick the ground where she created her chocolate croissants and even that would be tasty. No further explanation was needed.

Important of all: Teddy could name her farmers and suppliers by heart. This assured him that the produce was supplied within a hundred miles of the city and despite the few extra cents his apple may be, Warren appreciated the fact that his dinner was helping reasonably fund another family's meal and more importantly, livelihood.

Heroes didn't have to wear capes.

(Capes were _so_ last generation, Warren remembered Magenta seething as she flipped through a heroes' fashion magazine.)

Heroes didn't even have to have superpowers or a gun. Heroes were in the everyday when one takes a second- a moment even- to _look_.

There's the obvious: policeman, firemen, the underpaid but strong-willed teacher but also the farmer who knew what a quality product was and even better, didn't change a good thing when it was already fantastic.

A prime example: Homemade honey-dipped, bourbon-soaked candied plums.

How Warren allowed these delicate morsels to remain in the peripheral in his grocery shopping life for nearly four years despite their presence literally two feet away from him at the checkout counter was beyond him.

They were quickly becoming an addiction and Theresa "Teddy" Williams was tight-lipped about her supplier and their recipe that almost rivaled the security protocols for Area 52.

Warren tried to get the recipe, he really did. He turned the 'bad-boy' charm up and deviously threw in the line about his mother's lack of culinary skills (a total lie, but he was desperate) and still wasn't able to pull the recipe from her lips.

Although she did throw in an extra packet of the candied plums so Warren left defeated but content.

The plums were even better when roughly chopped and dumped into a large bowl of Greek yogurt – the tart of the creamy concoction a sinful counterpoint to the sweet and slightly crunchy bits of the purple fruit.

Warren often wondered when his newly emerged sweet tooth garnered all control of his sensibilities.

Oh wait, he _can_.

That was the most bothersome part of it all.

Warren often wondered when his life became so full of sidekicks scurrying around in neon colors, but brushed it off as soon as the thought rears its annoying head; he didn't need those crazy sidekicks were bothering him when he was _finally_ away from them.

It was Wednesday again and Warren was at Teddy's, inspecting a cantaloupe that looks eerily similar to Professor Medulla when he heard the familiar squeak of shoes against the recently buffed floors of his grocer.

In.

Out.

In.

Warren breathed.

Out.

Canvas shoes were popular and surely-

"Hey mom, here's the coconut-banana bread!" A pause, "Oh and there's even a couple of loaves with dark chocolate in it." The last part was accentuated cheekily by the lowering of the voice by an octave. It sent shivers down Warren's spine like a zap of electricity.

"Most important lesson of all, you don't mess with dark chocolate." A female voice, light and no-nonsense, slightly husky and had the potential to leave villains quaking in their boots, but was all wrapped in the thrum of fondness clearly in her tone of voice, at least toward her offspring anyway.

Her righteous indignation about the coconut-banana bread was completely justified. Warren could personally attest to it. He already had the three varieties of the banana bread in his cart next to the eggplant and bundle of spinach.

He heard what sounded like several loaves of banana bread being piled onto a cart and bit back a grin.

_They_ were probably the reason why Teddy amped up her supplies for banana bread.

The laughter that ensued after the woman's threat was hearty and syrupy sweet like the honey from Truesdale farm and rang through Warren's eardrums. (When did he start craving that laughter? Especially when it was directed, unfiltered, toward him?)

A slight screech of plastic soles of his shoes and Will was turning the corner, his face flushed with laughter and a loaf of strawberry-rhubarb bread in his arms when he spotted Warren.

His hazel eyes widen, his mouth almost comically resembling the letter 'o', and the flush on his cheeks quickly extends down his neck and past the bright red and white T-shirt he was sporting today.

Warren would laugh at the comical sight of Will gaping, but he's no better. He's standing still - so very still like the silver painted man who hung around Middle Park and posed for hours on end without noticeably batting an eyelash.

"I think a dozen loaves of sweet bread should last us a week, unless your dad decides to sneak into the kitchen for a midnight raid agai-oh my," and of course, Warren was _just_ this lucky.

A very, very (un)familiar woman followed Will around the corner. Despite the fact that she wore a pair of black, thick-rimmed glasses and her hair was straightened and artfully tousled, it did nothing to hide the fact that she was the individual who Will inherited his warm hazel eyes and mousy brain hair from.

And Warren _knew_.

Secret identities did not simply involve a pair of glasses or a mask. Comic books made keeping a secret identity seem easy; that the hero(ine)'s friends and possibly family were ignorant to the fact that their local superhero who had the same physique – voice even- could get away with just a mask. Their costume, through enhanced illusionary tech embedded within the fabric, helped alter their appearance (slightly broader soldiers, maybe a cleft chin, their eyes a slightly darker shade of brown, or a different nose) and even the addition of voice modifiers; they helped but it was essentially all on the hero, the _person_ who made the hero, to make sure that they kept their secret identity that: a secret.

The way a hero held themselves while in their civilian persona was what really consecrated their double lives staying separate. It was a different kind of confidence – the way they walked, the way they stood – not completely, just _slightly,_ different in that subtle way from their justice-kicking persona, that left no question to relatives, friends, and bystanders that they were masquerading exactly who they were.

Warren knew despite the bulletin boards, benches, and bus signs that littered the city advertising her successful real estate business that he could pass by this woman three-maybe even four- times and he would never even notice that she was-she _is_-

Jetstream didn't miss a beat.

Her artfully arched eyebrow quirked slightly at the gawking boys in front of her, "_Will_, I thought I taught you better to open gawk. Remember what happened at GL's birthday party last summer," and Will immediately closed his mouth, muttering an apology. He nervously worried his bottom lip between his teeth, and to top the picture of domestic cute, he was clutching his strawberry-rhubarb bread like his life depended on it, unsure of the outcome folding before him.

"I-um, well, I-" Will stammered, and the tension builds and- -

"Hello, I'm Will's mom." Warren's breath caught in his throat. Jetstream was just as quick as her name suggested, and Warren didn't think he had the two brain cells to rub together to make a coherent thought as she suddenly appeared two feet from his presence, seemingly teleported from where she was several yards away.

In heels no less.

Will was probably already used to his mother's stealth-like quickness because he didn't look nonplussed in the slightest at her quickness (nervous that she was in front of Warren; yes) as he followed after his mother, his shoes squeaking lightly against the floor.

Clearly Will didn't inherit his mother's subtlety.

Jetstream towered over him slightly. Her glasses balanced precariously on the tip of her nose, giving her a direct, unhindered view of Warren, and he wants to-wants to desperately remove her from his personal space but he couldn't even muster the urge to glare at her, not when the smile on her face- genuinely sincere with an edge of a protective mother regarding the intentions of her only child's classmate, but heartfelt nonetheless. Her head slightly cocked to the side. In this very moment, she may be Jetstream but the way her gaze softened after her initial inspection of him was that of a knowing mother and secondly, as a superheroine – and how long has it been since someone from the superhero community – who knew of him, knew of his father – looked at him straight in the eyes?

"I'm Warren," he finally said, croaked due to his suddenly dry throat. "Warren _Peace_." He enunciated his mother's maiden name that he and his mom adopted three days after the Event. He raised his hand, a patented confident nonchalance aura rolling from his body in waves but he knows Jetstream can see the lingering hesitancy in his eyes and his shoulders raised slightly for rebuff.

Instead, he felt a smaller hand slip into his.

"Josephine Stronghold," Jetstream replied easily. "You can call me Josie though. It's a pleasure to meet you, Warren Peace."

Will lingered beside his mother – the grip on the slightly abused loaf of strawberry-rhubarb bread lessened – and Josie's hand still comfortably gripping his, and Warren's entire body slackened in defeat.

He finally exhaled, the pressure that was resting on his chest like a thousand skyscrapers finally lifted.

And he truly believed her words.

…

Warren still had shopping to do.

He really did.

Kind of.

He couldn't seem to pull away or even politely excuse himself with some half-truth, not when Will was chatting amicably with (more like, _to_) Warren about the last lesson from Mr. Boy regarding the proper technique of being captured. It mostly involved hairpins in absurd locations in their costume. Josie was walking on the other side of Will as he spoke (his hands flying as he reenacted what looked like a maneuver that involved popping his thumb out of his socket to pull the shackles off his wrist in the case he can't reach the pin). She interjected advice every now while inspecting a case of broccoli. She was ridiculously informative regarding on-the-fly escape procedures that even caused Warren to lift an eyebrow.

Apparently, gum and a loose screw could also be used to pick a lock.

Will stopped his ridiculously crazy recount of the lesson for a breath when Josie, face still looking at a head of broccoli for defects, said out of the blue, "Do you like broccoli, Warren?"

Warren blinked, mind buzzing around a scenario where Will would possibly have to garner extra time to escape by persuading the villain to monologue while he picked a lock, but nodded anyway. "Yeah, I'm not that picky of an eater."

"I like a boy who eats healthy." Josie smiled as she hefted the entire case of broccoli as easily as a pillow and placed it in her cart. It was surprising the amount of food she could squeeze into her grocery cart. Half of it was already filled to the brim with various breads – two thirds with banana-coconut bread. She shot a glance at Will, "Kids nowadays eat too much junk food."

Will mustered the energy to look indignant while Warren did _not_ allow the corners of his lips to quirk up as mother and son squared off.

"Teddy's bread isn't junk food _and_ you eat as much of it as I do." Will attempted to defend himself and his bread, but his hands still nervously tugged at the hem of his shirt. "And _dad_, I think he sleepwalks to the kitchen for it."

Josie hmm'ed at the argument but allowed it slide only to throw Warren an exasperated look over Will's head.

Will pouted but it lessened when Josie grabbed a bag of peanut butter, chocolate chip scones as they head toward the checkout counter.

Clearly, Will and his pension for sweets were genetic.

"_Oh_," Josie perked, as if she _just_ remembered something that was lingering on the tip of her mind, "Do you have any plans tonight, Warren?"

"Just making dinner for myself," Warren replied absently. He was loosely estimating the total price for all the food in his cart. Will was no help by waving around another packet of candied plums. (Warren already had four of them!)

"Is your mom still out of the town?" Josie asked carefully as a teenager, with an interesting lime-green faux-hawk, processed her groceries. Warren was still tallying his groceries when Will shot his mom a pleading look.

It was returned with a wink.

Later in the future, Warren would blame the plums for the momentary distraction.

"Oh good," Josie said casually as she handed the cashier her credit card, "You can join us for dinner tonight."

Warren, honest to goodness, floundered as he shot his head up to look at Josie and Will with wide, bewildered eyes.

"I-I don-"

"What person turns down a free home cooked meal?" Josie frowned.

"I wouldn't" "Not me," Will and the cashier simultaneously chimed in. Will looked at Warren with large eyes and his body hunched inward in a self-protecting manner that reminds Warren of a kicked puppy. The cashier – _Josh_- does not help the situation when he looks at Warren disapprovingly behind Josie and Will.

Warren was pretty sure he should be the one indignant here. They (technically The Commander) were the ones who put his dad in jail and-and _he_.

Pause.

He-

He really did not bear the Strongholds (even The Commander) any ill will. His dad made his decision and despite the repercussions that came from it (his mom scorned by the hero community and the whispers that he would into a villain because '_like father – like son,' _heroes murmured), Warren still doesn't think he would –or could- say no to Josie and Will as they looked at him beseechingly.

"What time," he said slowly, "Would be good for me to drop by?"

In hindsight, Warren should have asked if The Commander would be at dinner as well but-

It should have been the first question he asked before accepting but the smiles shot his way by Will, and Josie (and oddly enough, the cashier) momentarily distracted him.

Better yet, he was too busy questioning the lucidity of the situation when Josie told the cashier to ring up Warren's order and she'd fit the bill.

She raised a hand to stop Warren's protest. "This is the least I could do for Will's friend who cooks for himself and knows the true wonders of Teddy's banana-coconut bread."

Warren paused at the word 'friend' and noticed Will wasn't trying to correct her. Instead he ducked his head shyly to stare at his scuffed shoes – with an unabashed and pleased pink stain across his cheeks emphasizing the light sprinkle of freckles that dot his high cheekbones, and it then dawns on Warren that there's nothing to correct. It's been three months since Will sat across from him and offered his pudding cup and the school-wide pool was a mess because no one, not even the empaths, thought the color coordinated bunch of sidekicks would _still_ be sitting (happily even) with Warren. Will and his friends had inadvertently turned out to be _Warren's_ friends as well.

"Thank you," he simply stated.

Josie was obviously pleased at the lack of discussion and coercing that she originally planned would ensue after the invitation for dinner and especially for her payment for his groceries. He had pride, she could tell, but that didn't mean she couldn't give back to the teenager that had been (no-so-discreetly, from the Principal Power's reports) protecting her son. She hadn't questioned her luck when she levitated from her bed one night when she was six years old and staring at the little plastic glow-in-the-dark stars glued onto her ceiling, nor did she when she saw Will stare at her curiously after one of her evening flights when he was younger. Josie remembered laughing, the good kind of laughter that really comes from deep within your stomach about all her luck, her accomplishments – that now she could levitate – no, _fly_, even higher now, above the clouds and touch the strands of ice that litter earth's atmosphere. She was thankful for every one of the gifts she received or earned in her lifetime, especially the one now, her little two year old, William Stronghold, bundled to the nose cooing delightedly in her arms –knowing that she would never, ever, ever, drop him from within the confines of her arms- as his mitten-encased fingers briefly touched the fragile wisps of frost.

Instead, she nudged Will who asks Josh the Cashier for a piece of paper. She hands Will a pen from her purse, who then proceeded to scrawl their address on the back of a post-it note.

On the bottom of Will's home address was a phone number.

"My cell phone number. In case you get lost," he mumbled softly, peering up at Warren through the thick fan of his lashes.

Josie's back was conveniently in front of them but neither notice her shoulders tremble with what could be considered as stifled laughter. Josh stubbornly stared at the countertop as he asks Josie to sign her signature on her receipt.

Warren lifted his hand and slowly grasped the post-it note, his fingers lightly brushing against Will's slightly cooler fingertips.

Warren's grin can't match Will's supernova of a smile, but he thinks that- that Will sees it for what it is.

…

Despite Josie and Will's insistence about driving him back home, Warren politely refused. He thinks he's entitled to that much after being coerced to come to dinner and having his groceries bought for him. Besides, the walk from Teddy's to his home is merely two blocks will help him sort his thoughts, and despite whatever notions that they have in their minds, he could surely take care of himself on the deadly, well-lit streets of suburban Maxville.

He was pretty sure he saw Josie Stronghold tail after him a healthy distance away in her car until he reached the safety of his street.

His house was situated in a cul-de-sac and located at the very corner, carefully obscured from general view by a variety of large, towering oak trees. The house was big: four bedrooms and three and a half bathrooms.

'_The market was down,'_ his mom shrugged. She turned to look at him, her hand a familiar coolness against his cheek_, 'I can't protect you from the world, even though I would like to, but at the very least, I want our home to be a refuge.'_

Warren liked to think his eleven-year old self understood back then. The news coverage, the trials with his neatly pressed suit, the threats written in red ink mysteriously appearing in their mailbox and on his desk at school, and yeah, despite the fact that it was the two of them, he understood why she bought such a large house. It was an oasis amongst a desert of turned backs and veiled threats.

It was a little disconcerting to walk into such a large house when it was only he and his mom but-

The moment he stepped into the threshold of the spacious building, Warren could breathe easier.

He closed the door with a definite click, the biometric security system reacting to his signature and scanning for any type of potentially hostile threat on his person. Every hero house had one and although various members of the Justice League wanted to revoke his mom's privileges as a heroine and even strip her title as a hero, his mom was an empath but most of all, a _negotiator_ for a reason. Instead of losing everything, she coerced the committees to upgrade their security system and extra paid vacation days while she settled her affairs.

She was the best mediator at her firm and an even better negotiator for hostile situations: warring nations, planetary takeovers, and marital strife. You name it, she could mediate it and both sides would gain _something_.

Warren still couldn't bring himself to ask if she still felt guilty over her inability to figure out his father's plan and persuade him to rethink or at the very least, stop him before he set a quarter of Maxville ablaze in less than an hour.

Shuffling around the kitchen, Warren placed his groceries within their respective compartments and absently looked at the calendar on the fridge. His mom told him she would be back in two weeks. He wryly wondered what she would say about his latest meeting with Will Stronghold. When he first told her about the new seating arrangements during lunch a week after Stronghold sat across from him, she…she didn't seem perplexed. Instead, a pleased smile erupted from her face and patted his shoulder as she leaned around him to snatch the toasted wheat bagel from his lax fingers. "I'm happy for you, honey."

He was expecting suspicion or at the very least concern, but apparently, she was fine with it in that mysterious maternal way that indicated everything would turn out well.

He glanced at the clock ticking away quietly near the refrigerator. He had three hours before he was expected. His gut twisted painfully as if somebody was wringing it out like a wet towel and suddenly, he was reconsidering his decisions in life.

He leaned against the cool marble countertop and took a bite of a slice of strawberry-rhubarb bread. Will must have slipped it into his cart when he was busy being baffled by his equally strong-willed mother.

The clock continued ticking.

The bread was sweet with a little bite of tartness. He liked it.

The post-it note carefully tucked away in his back pocket burned a hole through the dark denim of his jeans.

Surprisingly, the Strongholds lived relatively close. It was only a quick fifteen-minute walk to their house from Warren's neighborhood. Warren made it last thirty minutes. His head was turned downward as he faced the cell phone in his hand with Will's number clearly printed on the glass screen. The 'send' button was inches from his thumb. He really wanted to call and say he couldn't make it, that Lena from the Paper Lantern called him because they were short-staffed that evening or that maybe he got a 24-hour stomach virus since they last spoke but instead, he closed his eyes and breathed out slowly through his nose.

"Hello?"

A familiar voice echoed from his cell phone and he realized he accidently pressed his finger down on the screen and inadvertently called Will.

Crap.

"Hey," Warren said thickly.

"Is everything okay?" Will questioned, concern laced in his voice. "Can you find our house okay? Do you need a ride? I-I can meet you wherever you are and-"

"I can find your house fine," Warren interrupted a little more harshly than he anticipated. He winced. "I just wanted to call and say…"

He paused.

"That I'm arriving a little earlier than expected. I hope that's okay."

"Oh!" Will's surprised exclamation answered him and Warren could imagine him bobbing his head in reply, "Yes! The food's finishing cooking but it's more than okay."

"Alright," Warren came to a stop on the sidewalk. He was merely three houses away from the brightly lit Stronghold home.

"See you soon!" Will finished, unfazed by Warren's sharp answer.

"Yeah." Warren clicked his phone shut and stared at the house. It was modest. A little smaller than Warren's and a large, slightly cheesy sign on their lawn indicating that their house was the epicenter of the Stronghold real estate empire.

He stood awkwardly on the sidewalk, unable to move his foot forward. For the umpteenth time that day, he mentally knocked himself on the head for the potential disaster this could turn into. He was going to enter the house of his dad's arch-nemesis and although it didn't translate to him and his mom, he doubted both Jetstream and _especially_ The Commander could ignore the rumors circulating that he was going to graduate as a villain.

Oh yeah, and that he could possibly kidnap his son and use him as bait/hostage/food for the ravage dogs he kept hidden in the basement.

Shuffling his feet, distracted by the inner turmoil over what could possibly happen, a car slowly drove to a stop several feet beside him.

"Warren."

Warren's fist immediately curled inward, his fingers thrumming with a heat that could rival molten lava.

The window of the passenger side pulled down and in the driver's seat was a person that clearly resembled the man on the real estate poster posing alongside Josie Stronghold. Regardless of the thick-rimmed glasses and slicked-back hair with his dorky suit, this was obviously The Commander peering at him with an imperceptible expression on his tan face.

"Need a lift? I know it's only a couple of yards away, but you seem to be glued to that spot," Steve joked. His eyes darting from his house to Warren, "I heard from Will that you were coming for dinner." His grin, although awkward and a little nervous, widened, "My wife makes a mean peach-cherry cobbler."

"Ok," Warren replied before stiffly opening the door with a click and hope that his battered (presumptuously dead) body wasn't going to secretly end up in a ditch on the outskirts of a small, unassuming town in the Midwest.

The drive to the Stronghold's house was indeed short and with a drive forward that lasted four seconds and a turn toward the driveway, Warren was right in front of the Stronghold house.

"Let's go in, I smell cobbler," Steve stated easily as he carefully unbuckled his seatbelt. He shot Warren a less nervous grin, probably due to Josie and Will, who were poking their heads out the doorway smiling brightly at him and Warren. "You can call me Steve by the way." He paused before continuing, his voice earnest. "We are _all_ happy to have your company this evening."

Warren nodded mutely as he unbuckled himself and stepped out of the car. Ahead, he could see Josie pressing a kiss to Steve's cheek and Will fist-bumping with his dad.

He could be jealous. He _could_. However, when Will sprinted forward toward him, a splotch of flour on his cheek and the sweet smell of cobbler emitting from his clothes and skin, Warren's stomach spoke for him and promptly rumbled.

"Food's almost done." Will did a failure of a job holding back the laughter that threatened to fall from his lips.

"You, young man, were snacking the whole time," Josie mentioned as she and Steve disappeared into the house.

Warren raised an eyebrow as Will spluttered indignantly after his mom for outing him.

"Maybe your superpower ought to be your metabolism," Warren stated after a moment of silence.

Will narrowed his eyes toward him, crossing his arms in a mock pout that was more like a puppy growling than a proper glare.

"I really want to see your grade from Mr. Boy regarding your intimidation and coercion skills." Warren absently stepped forward, closing the distance between them. His eyes narrowed slightly, focused on Will's perplexed face, as he moved his hand upward, the pads of his fingers gently brushing the flour from Will's face.

Will's eyes widened slightly, his eyebrows shooting upward toward his hairline but he didn't move away. Instead, his whole body relaxed and he turned his face slightly toward Warren's fingers - still settled on his cheek, to press against it closer. He bodily leaned forward, a mischievous grin on his face. "You don't need to be intimidating to be coercive."

Taking a step away, Will's smile returned back to that seemingly innocent, completely harmless one Warren was used to seeing during lunch while Ethan and Zach were chatting about the newest game. He took another step backward, looking back toward his house over his shoulder before motioning with his hand toward Warren to join him.

Warren followed, his fingertips tingling and an odd ache of loss resounding through his being when Will took a step back.

Instead of delving any further about his subconscious –that would certainly lead to trouble- Warren obediently followed after Will and the smell of a roast and cobbler. His stomach rumbled enthusiastically.

* * *

><p><strong>SS<strong>: Hey everyone! It's been a while since I last updated but wow, what's up with the sudden barrage of new fics in the Sky High category? Still, I'm glad it means this fandom is still alive and kicking! haha Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. I'm not necessarily a foodie but I like good food and hey, after that pudding chapter, I thought, _'hey, Warren and Will could totally bond over food because food is universal!_'

This will probably be my last update for a period of time. I'm actually heading back to school in the next few weeks so I hope this super long chapter will keep you entertained until then. _However_, reviews are encouragement though. Knowing that someone took the time to rave about my fic will probably persuade me to leave my papers for later, haha. Anyway, until next time!


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